


Angels Take Leviathans

by nikola



Category: Doctor Who, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 02:04:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2173896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikola/pseuds/nikola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who knew the Colt could kill weeping angels? And hey – is that a time machine? In which there are four Deans, two Sams, and a vortex manipulator. Doctor Who and Supernatural crossover. Set in early Season 7 in both shows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels Take Leviathans

**Angels Take Leviathans**

 

“It’s… bigger on the inside,” Sam wonders aloud, and Amy doesn’t miss the smug expression on the Doctor’s face, the slight twitch of his lips. She rolls her eyes.

 A moment later Dean storms in, pauses abruptly when he sees the four pairs of expectant eyes looking at him. “Well?” the Doctor prompts.

 “I prefer Battlestar Galactica,” is Dean’s answer, as he narrows his eyes at the whizzing console and the round things in the walls. “Seriously? This – _this_ is a spaceship?”

 “Battle – what?” The Doctor frowns as Rory smirks, and Sam lets out an enduring sigh.

 “What do you know about spaceships, anyway,” the Doctor murmurs and shakes his screwdriver pointlessly. “You’d shoot it if it had legs.”

 Dean just rolls his eyes. “Sure. No problem, you know, for _saving your_ _ass_.”

 “Yeah, about that,” Amy chips in. “How’d you shoot a weeping angel? Can you just – can you even do that?”

 “Can he, Doctor?” Rory sounds amused.

 “This ain’t an ordinary gun, sweetheart.” Dean says smoothly, and Rory isn’t amused anymore. Sam jabs his brother in the ribs. “Dean, that’s her husband.”

 “And what? I wasn’t – “

 “What _is_ that gun?” The Doctor asks, reluctant curiosity making his voice grumpier than usual. Amy wants to laugh.

 “A good one. Who are you guys, anyway? British secret service?” Dean jokes, but there is a line of tension in his shoulders. Sam holds out a hand to diffuse that tension. They’re both big, but Sam is like a mini-giant. A gentle giant, though. Amy likes them both.

 “Relax, Dean. They’re friendly. Uh, this is the Doctor.”

 “Doctor who?” Dean distorts his face, and the Doctor smirks despite himself. This particular question always seems to amuse him, though Amy has no idea why.

 “Just the Doctor.” He answers habitually. “Who are _you_? _When_ are you?”

 “What the hell are you talking about?” Dean looks like he might be laughing, or tearing your head apart. Or both. Rory moves a little closer to Amy.

 “Didn’t I mention? It’s a time machine – “

 “I thought you said _spaceship._ ”

 “It’s both,” the Doctor actually rolls his eyes. Amy laughs out loud this time. “TARDIS – Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. It’s an organically grown time and space manipulator from the planet Gallifrey. Don’t you read?”

 Dean looks like he wants to answer, but isn’t sure if there was a question in there somewhere. Sam sighs good-naturedly and takes over.

 “I’m Sam, this is my brother Dean. We’re from Earth, America – 2012.”

 “Dude, what’s this, _The Martian Chronicles_? _We’re from Earth_?” Dean complains.

 “Dean, obviously they’re aliens,” Sam puts in patiently. “He said something about the planet Gallifrey.” Amy opens her mouth to correct him, but Dean is waving his hands about and rolling his eyes.

 “Oh, so now, aliens speak Queen’s English?”

 “TARDIS translation program, actually.” The Doctor interjects helpfully. Dean stares at him like he can’t believe his eyes.

 “Great.” He finally grumbles. “That’s great. Now you’re gonna tell me Leviathans are actually some aliens from the planet Purgatory, or something.”

 “Leviathans?” The Doctor looks taken aback. “Well, actually, there’s this planet called…”

 “What’re Leviathans?” Amy asks. She hates not knowing.

 “They’re monsters from Purgatory – “ Sam starts.

 “Who want to turn Earth into a breeding farm,” and Dean finishes. Amy wonders if they do this often, finishing each other’s sentences. Dean winks at Amy as if he hadn’t just said some monsters wanted to eat Earth. He has a very pretty face, and Rory bristles beside her. Dean turns to the Doctor.

 “So, you were saying?”

 “Leviathans. I’ve met them once. But their planet is completely destroyed.” The Doctor taps the screwdriver on his chin thoughtfully. Sam straightens his shoulders, and turns to Dean.

 “You think – that’s why they came here? To Earth? And God just locked them up in Purgatory?”

 “Come on, Sam,” Dean crunches up his face. “You believe that? Leviathans are _aliens_? Besides, Death said God made them.”

 “Who said what, now?” Amy feels like it’s a good time to interrupt. Dean and Sam just look at her awhile, like she should know.

 “God? Did he say God?” Rory looks as confused as she feels. Amy looks over at the Doctor and, for once, he looks as baffled as well.

 “Who’s this God person?” The Doctor asks. Sam pulls back, looking weary.

 “Well. _God,_ you know. Adam and Eve, the Genesis?”

 “They wouldn’t, Sammy. They’re _aliens._ ”Dean says sarcastically.

 “Actually, we’re humans.” Rory explains. “This is Amy, I’m Rory. We travel with the Doctor.”

 “That sounds cool,” Sam muses. Dean glances at his brother, and Amy can’t figure out what his look means.

 “So, _God_? Like the Christian God? He’s… real?” Amy struggles to come to term with this. She used to pray as a young girl, but not after she’s met the Doctor. Rory claims he’s too pragmatic to believe in higher power.

 “Well, yeah. As far as we can tell.” Dean answers.

 “Doctor?” Amy looks at the Doctor, unsure. The Doctor meets her wavering eyes, puts on a face that means that he has no idea what’s what but will pretend that he does, for Amy’s sake.

 “Big universe, Pond. Anything’s possible. Well, almost anything. Well,” the Doctor shakes himself. “Anyway. So these Leviathans are giving you problems, eh?”

 “You could say,” Dean mutters. Then his face brightens, as an idea strikes him. Amy thinks she can almost see a tiny light bulb coming to life above his head. Dean has a very expressive face. “Hey, do you got some cool alien guns that could take them out? Our guns don’t work.”

 “There with the guns again.” The Doctor sighs, exasperated. Dean gets defensive.

 “What? What do you suggest, then? Have a cup of _tea_ at them?”

 “Dean,” Sam warns.

 “Whatever. If you ain’t gonna help, just drop us off at our motel.”

 “How are you going to fight them?” Rory asks, sounding concerned. It’s their planet, too.

 “We got no idea.” Dean looks like he wants to throw his hands to the air, but rakes his face instead. Suddenly he looks very tired. “Nothing kills them. We tried everything. Dropping a car at them won’t kill them.”

 “Doctor,” Amy looks at the Doctor, fixes him with a stern gaze that she reserves for special occasions. “We’re gonna help them, right?”

 The Doctor smacks his lips together distastefully. “Of course we will. Just… have you tried putting them back where they come from? Purgatory?”

 Amy wants to ask if Heaven and Hell are real too, Angels and Demons, but it doesn’t seem like a right time. Dean opens his palms, raising his eyebrows.

 “Yeah, no. We haven’t tried _putting them back where they come from_.”

 “Oh, well, you might want to…”

 “Doctor, that was a sarcasm,” Sam intones carefully. He aims a look at Dean, and Dean looks back at him with an innocent expression. “Excuse my brother. We’re just a little… frustrated.”

 “Ah,” the Doctor says. He considers the two brothers carefully. “Tell me more,” he finally says.

-

 Silence settles when Sam finishes telling the entire story. It’s a long story, because Sam starts from the beginning. Dean feels like he’s listening to a badly scripted horror flick as Sam starts to explain Mary’s death, and then John’s, and then basically everyone else they knew. Dean listens to the silence awhile, thinking about their last death that turned out to be an un-death. He feels bad about leaving Cas in a locked ward – with _Meg,_ to boost – but is glad Sam’s noodles are back in order. Then an idea hits him.

 “Hey,” Dean says. Four pairs of eyes turn. “You said it was a time machine, right?”

 “Yes.” The Doctor answers. Dean spreads his arms and looks at Sam, waiting for him to realize the obvious. Sam’s eyes light up only seconds later.

 “You mean – when? Before Eve?” His brother leans forward excitedly.

 “If it’s not too late. Maybe before you got your soul back?” Dean shrugs.

 “What’s this bright idea?” The Doctor asks. Dean can tell he doesn’t like being left out of the loop. Well, too bad.

 “Remember I said Castiel accidentally released Leviathans from Purgatory?” Sam starts explaining again. Dean snorts. “Accident, my ass.” Sam ignores him.

 “So what if we could go back before that happened? And… and convince Cas not to?”

 “Rewrite your own history?” Amy says. “Doctor, can they do that?”

 “It’s tricky.” The Doctor narrows his eyes. “You’d have to be _very_ careful.”

 “Careful about what?” Sam asks.

 “Not to run into yourselves.”

 “Obviously,” his brother, the giant geek, is excited. Despite himself, Dean finds himself wanting to smile. “Because we would cause a discordance in the space time.” Sam continues. Dean is proud of his brother for putting that expression on the Doctor’s face.

 “Yes. Exactly,” he says, a little bemused. Dean can tell he usually likes to explain things himself. To show off.

 “Bottom line – we don’t go chattin’ up our past selves. Other than that it’s fine? Can you do it?” Dean asks.

 “We could try,” the Doctor says uncertainly. Dean doesn’t like the hesitance, but he figures it’s worth a risk.

 “Alright,” Dean says cheerfully. It’s hitting him that he’s about to go time-traveling, in an actual time machine this time. “Let’s do it, then.”

 “I need an exact date, exact location.” The Doctor yells as he starts a sort of – weird dance move, the main console deck as the dance floor, and starts pushing and smacking the controls. Dean’s not sure if you can go about hammering a time machine like that, but he has to grab the banister as the spaceship starts shaking.

 “Dean?” Sam prompts, yelling over the sudden whizzing sound filling up the room. Dean tries to think.

 “Um,” a scene flashes in his mind, angry words – _there’s a greater purpose here_ – what should have been his first clue. But he’d been very tired, then. “Sheriff’s station in Grants Pass, Oregon. June 2nd, 2011. About – nine p.m.?”

 The Doctor yells _Yowza,_ and Dean yells _seriously?_ He wonders if it’s a good idea to trust this alien man. But it’s too late now. He expects to feel his atoms disintegrating, or whatever, but a bad lump in his forehead is all he gets when he loses his footing and bumps his head on the main console. He misses his baby.

-

 Rory has heard about this angel _–_ seriously, an _angel?_ – and is ready to be overwhelmed by divine powers, or something, but when they barge into the station, it is not what they expect. A man in a baseball cap and disintegrating padded vest looks at them, surprised. He looks more like a grumpy old drunk than an angel. He fights the disappointment.

 “Sam? Dean? What the hell – “

 “Bobby, hey,” Sam chokes a little. _Bobby,_ Rory recognizes the name from Sam’s stories. Remembers that he’s passed away not too long ago. Dean is staring at Bobby like he’s seeing a ghost, which is kind of true. Rory feels inexplicably sad. He looks over at Amy and she meets his eyes grimly too.

 “Sam? What – who are these people?”

 “Listen, Bobby. Did we just leave?” Dean asks, regaining himself.

 “What are you talkin’ about, idjit?” Bobby screws up his face. “Have you lost your marbles?”

 “Hello, Mister Bobby,” the Doctor speaks up with a goofy grin. Rory can tell that he’s forgotten Bobby’s last name.

 “Who the hell are you?” Bobby looks confused.

 “I’m – “

 “He’s a time traveler. We’re from the future.” Dean explains. The Doctor looks grumpy, having his moment stolen.

 “ _What_?” Bobby gasps. “Is he an angel?”

 Rory laughs out loud. He can’t help it. Amy is sputtering, too.

 “Why are you laughing? I’m insulted.” The Doctor puffs. Then, “Am I insulted? I think I’m insulted. Why am I insulted?”

 “Are you – is he – “ Bobby narrows his eyes.

 “Probably, yeah.” Dean decides. “Listen, Bobby, we don’t have a lot of time. Where’s Cas?”

 “I’m here,” comes a deep voice, deeper even than the crazy umbrella man they met on that last planet, and Rory turns to find an actual angel standing in the doorway. For an angel, he looks really confused and – is that a trench coat?

 “What are you doing here? I thought you went to…” Then the angel’s eyes widen. “You’re not from this time.”

 “Right. Yes. We need to talk – “ Dean’s interrupted as Castiel turns promptly and narrows his eyes at the Doctor, cocking his head at a weird angle.

 “Timelord,” he declares, much to everyone’s surprise. The Doctor gets guarded in an instant.

 “How do you know?”

 Castiel’s head tilts again. It’s really quite disconcerting, Rory decides.

 “There was a time when we interacted with your kind.” Castiel says, sounding ancient.

 “With angels? How come I don’t know about it?” the Doctor keeps looking suspicious. Castiel heaves a sigh, like he’s enduring a particularly difficult child.

 “It was long before your time. I’m older than you can imagine – “

 “Yeah, alright, showoff. I said we need to talk.” Dean says sternly. He seems unfazed by the sudden weariness – thousands, billions of years just rolling off the angel. Even the Doctor looks a little disturbed.

 “About what, Dean?” Castiel does the enduring sigh again.

 “About you. And how you’re in cahoots with Crowley.” Dean says, and Castiel actually flinches.

 “You… know about that?” He says at the same time Bobby yells _what_?

 “We do, Cas, and it doesn’t end well. Trust me.” Sam says, his face serious.

 “We need you to give it up. Otherwise – it’s gonna end really, really, _really_ terrible. And we’re not joking.” Dean says equally seriously. Castiel looks pained. Then he looks at the Doctor. He’s about to say something, when Dean yells – “Bobby?”

 They all turn to look at Dean, but he isn’t speaking. He looks horrified, staring at something beyond Sam’s shoulders. Someone – it’s Dean, and Sam, and they look back at the little group with a dumbstruck expression on their faces. It’s completely still for a while, but Rory figures it won’t last that much longer. Suddenly Dean – the past Dean – starts shouting, _they’re shapeshifters_ – and pulling out his gun. Their Dean shouts _wait_ , Castiel starts explaining loudly at the same time that the Doctor does, and the other Sam is lunging at them with a bloody machete. Rory runs to cover Amy. The Deans lunge at each other, both yelling something unintelligible. _Stop!_ The Doctor hollers but obviously no one listens. Their fists meet each other’s cheeks. Rory waits for the world to end. It does, with a flash.

-

 “Where are we?” Sam groans, feels his brother’s hands searching across his face, looking for invisible bruises that only Dean can see. He brushes him off. “I’m okay, Dean.”

 “It’s the Doctor, actually.” Sam opens his eyes, only to close it again as some light-flickering machine whizzes annoyingly at his eyes.

 “Ugh, what is that?” He mutters and sits up. Another pair of hands helps him.

 “It’s a sonic screwdriver.” The Doctor says as if it’s obvious. “You’re fine. No concussion.”

 “I don’t believe it,” Dean is saying somewhere to his left. Sam turns around and finds that they are in front of a wired fence somewhere, abandoned houses and wrecked cars everywhere.

 “What? Why? Where are we?” Amy says, looking dazedly around her.

 “The world didn’t end?” Rory says something out of context. Amy frowns at him.

 “We’re in the future.” Dean sounds funny, like he might be laughing and crying at the same time. Sam frowns.

 “How do you know?” He asks, walking toward his brother. Dean points at a sign hanging across the wired fence, dangling sideways. Sam reads it. Then reads it again, just to make sure. “What the hell?” he says dumbly.

 “What does it say?” The Doctor pops up from behind his back, stares up at the blood-red writing on the askew sign. Actually, now that Sam thinks about it, it might even be real blood.

 “Cro… Croatoan. What does that mean?” The Doctor does something with his sonic screwdriver, which whizzes and blips. Sam is starting to doubt that it does anything else. Although, “blood,” the Doctor decides, looking sick. Amy frowns.

 “Blood?”

 “It’s written in human blood. Or, mostly human, anyway.”

 “Infected with a Croatoan virus,” Dean explains. He looks disturbed, though, more than what makes sense, because, undead zombies that you can shoot at? But then he remembers Dean said _the future,_ and it all makes sense.

 “Dean, is this…?”

 “Yeah,” Dean nods grimly.

 “I wish you two would stop doing that,” Amy complains. “Not all of us can talk telepathically, you know.”

 “It’s 2014,” Sam explains. “Or, another version of it, at least. Remember I told you about the angel Zachariah?”

 “You mean the alternate timeline?” The Doctor’s eyes narrow. He sweeps their environment with the screwdriver again.

 “He said it was the future,” Dean says. “But it doesn’t make sense. The world didn’t… go nuclear when I touched my other self in that timeline.”

 “Good, you’re thinking,” the Doctor says, withdrawing his screwdriver. Sam figures it told him nothing, because he glares at it distastefully. “It’s because it _wasn’t_ the future. Just some alternate reality. The angel wanted to threaten you.”

 “Dickbag,” Dean mutters.

 “But why’d we end up here?” Rory asks.

 “Two points in Dean’s timeline that should never have touched,” the Doctor explains. “It created a paradox, and the universe flung us to this other reality to get rid of us.”

 “You make _the universe_ sound like a bureaucratic asshole,” Dean observes.

 “And you made Death sound like an actual person,” the Doctor says, and Dean shrugs.

 “It’s ‘cause he is.”

 The Doctor pulls back, screwing up his face like a little kid.

 “You know Death?” Amy asks. “Like, _Death_ Death?”

 “Old friend, actually,” Dean exaggerates with a smirk. Sam rolls his eyes.

 “It doesn’t matter. How can we go back to our own universe?” He asks sensibly. Dean sobers up at that.

 “Yeah, got a world to save, and all.”

 “The Doctor will know,” Amy says confidently. “Don’t you, Doctor?”

 “Ah,” the Doctor points his finger at Amy, somewhat pointlessly from what Sam observes. He rubs his palms together. Sam gathers that he looks rather nervous. “Well. Yes, of course I do. I have a plan.”

 “And what’s that?” Dean says, suspicion in his eyes.

 “It’s, it’ll come to me.”

 “Right.” Amy narrows her eyes. The Doctor looks sheepish. Before they can get on with the non-discussion, though, there is a loud noise behind Sam’s back. He turns quickly, drawing out his gun, and Dean does the same.

 “Hey – do you mean to tell me, you’ve had that all along? In my _TARDIS_?” The Doctor yelps. But then the people infected with Croatoan virus – hardly people anymore – show up, growling and running, and Dean says “shut up”. The Doctor says something but it’s buried under the yelling, the blood gurgling and Dean’s shot, hitting one straight in the forehead. Sam shoots the other one when it gets too close. It doesn’t deter the other ones, though, and Sam sees more turning the corner. There is nothing but hatred in their eyes.

 “Damn, more Croats – “ Dean says.

 “More _what_?” Sam says as he shoots another one, between their eyes this time.

 “ _Croats_ , Croatoan. I picked it up from… me.” Dean explains, briefly. Then, “there’re too many – run!”

 “Oh this, this I’m familiar with.” The Doctor says, and Amy grins. Sam gives them credit for staying cheerful, under the circumstances.

 Then they run for their lives.

-

 The Doctor is worried. He’s usually worrying about one thing or the other so that’s not surprising, but he feels that this time – this time the problem is slightly bigger than the others. Of course, that’s usually how he feels dealing with problems that he run into on his journey, each one necessarily bigger than all the others because, well, it’s happening _right now_ , so maybe that isn’t surprising either. The two cancel each other out, and the Doctor is left worrying that maybe he isn’t worried enough.

 “Welcome to Camp Chitaqua,” Dean says. The Doctor has learned a thing or two about Dean, maybe even come to like him a little bit despite his obvious affinity for guns and violence, and assumes that was a sarcasm in his voice. Or maybe it wasn’t.

 “Is this where – “ Sam starts, doesn’t finish. The Doctor gets what Amy means by telepathy. He looks at Amy and winks, for no apparent reason, and Amy smiles back at him.

 “Yeah. It’s where future – _alternate_ – “ Dean acknowledges the Doctor with a nod, “version of me was runnin’ things.”

 “What, the end of the world?” Rory sounds nervous. He does that.

 “Yeah. The survivor’s camp.” Dean sounds worried. “The last time I checked, anyway. I don’t know what timeline this is – “

 “Why don’t we go and check?” The Doctor suggests brightly. Dean frowns.

 “I don’t know how we’re gonna explain ourselves. Hey, maybe you three should go ahead and check before we barge in, huh?” Dean gets that expression again, the one when he’s having a moderately acceptable idea. The Doctor recognizes the look from Donna. “Explain a few things first.”

 “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” Sam says. “We’ll be hiding out here. Come and get us later.”

 “All right,” the Doctor agrees. Just because he misses Donna.

 “Gotta warn you, though.” Dean says. “It ain’t gonna be pretty in there.”

 “Yeah, well, it’s not our first end of the world.” Rory says sagely, and Sam raises his eyebrow.

 “Okay, good luck.” With that, the brothers Winchesters disappear through the bush and are completely invisible in a moment. The Doctor turns to the entrance of the camp, looks fondly over at the Ponds. He rubs his palms together.

 “Shall we?” He holds out his arms, and Amy takes it with a grin. Rory doesn’t, though, which is fine by the Doctor. They march in proudly into the camp, the creaking signs and overgrown weeds, until someone cocks a gun at them.

 “Identify yourself.” It’s a woman, lean and fierce, her hair in a ponytail. The Doctor holds up his hands.

 “Hold on, don’t shoot.”

 The woman looks confused. “English?”

 “Well, actually –“

 “I thought England was sunk.” The woman continues. Rory’s voice is sharp over Amy’s gasp.

 “Come again?”

 “All the islands are. England and Japan and Indonesia… How are you guys here?” She swings her rifle over her shoulders, though.

 “How do you know we’re not… _Croats_?” The Doctor feels smart, applying a new vocabulary like that. The woman frowns at the little triumphant smile on his face.

 “They don’t talk, but growl. And I don’t see any signs of infection,” the woman then beckons for them to follow. “I’m Risa. C’mon, I’ll take you to our leader.”

 “Dean?” Amy asks, and Risa pauses.

 “How’d you know?”

 “It’s complicated.” Amy shrugs, and after a while, Risa does too. The Doctor can see that she’s too tired to care much about problems she can’t solve.

 On their way, the Doctor takes in the battered surroundings, dirty tents and the gray atmosphere. Rory is right, of course, it isn’t their first apocalypse, but it unnerves him every time. Occasionally people stop and stare at their too-clean clothes and hair with weary caution. Risa leads them straight to the least shabby cabin in the middle of the camp. She goes in without knocking.

 “Dean, some British civilians,” she announces. “Found them at the camp’s entrance.”

 “Some _what_ , now?” Dean frowns up at them. The Doctor finds his face both familiar and completely different. There are new lines in his face, new weariness in his eyes. Risa shrugs and leaves the room. Dean stands up slowly, his fingers twitching near the gun on his thighs. So, that hasn’t changed.

 “Who’re you? How’d you find us?”

 “Woah,” mutters a dark voice beside Dean, and the Doctor whips his head around to find Castiel. Or at least – a version of him. It surprises him how much more _human_ he is now. The Doctor fights an urge to sonic him.

 “What, Cas?” Dean looks wearily at Castiel.

 “They’re… weird.”

 That one word, and suddenly they find themselves at gunpoint.

 “Easy there!” Amy says, but Dean is only staring at Castiel.

 “Explain,” Dean demands, and quite inappropriately but inevitably, the Doctor is reminded of the Daleks.

 “They’re not from this time period,” Castiel says, and the Doctor frowns at the silent giggle behind his voice. “And you – “ he points his finger at the Doctor.

 “Yes, me?” The Doctor says.

 “You’re not human.” Castiel says, gets up and pushes Dean’s gun down before he can say anything. “Timelord,” he declares the same way he did – but with something more. A plea.

 “What the hell is a – Timelord?” Dean says, but his gun stays down.

 “An alien?” Rory interjects helpfully, except it doesn’t seem to help at all.

 “Doctor, we have to explain about … “ Amy leaves the sentence hanging, but the Doctor know what she means.

 “Right, yes, Dean, Castiel – “

 “How do you know our names?” There it is with the gun again. Before the Doctor can answer, though, Castiel says, “Dean, Risa said your name when they came in,” very patiently. Dean looks a little taken aback, stares at Castiel. The Doctor stares at the two of them for a moment.

 “So, as I was saying… “ But he is interrupted again, by Castiel this time.

 “Timelord,” he says. “You have to stop it.”

 “What?” The Doctor frowns, looking wildly about himself. “Am I doing something to offend you? Amy, Rory, is anything wrong?”

 “Your bow tie, it’s rather offensive,” Rory says cheekily. The Doctor gives him a glare.

 “No,” Castiel is shaking his head. “You have to stop. It.”

 “What…”

 “He’s not gonna give you anything else.” Dean is rolling his eyes, and finally the Doctor spots something of _their_ Dean. It brings a smile to his face.

 “What?” Dean frowns.

 “Nothing. Castiel, please, tell me what I have to stop.” The Doctor says, gently, a voice he reserves specially for frightened friends. Because Castiel is frightened, he can see.

 “Please, stop,” Castiel says after a short silence. “This. Me. My Fall.”

 “Cas?” Dean sounds surprised, even a little scared. The Doctor looks around, sees that everyone is scared – even himself, maybe. Where is his TARDIS? But, but.

 “I can’t stand it, Dean. Humanity. It’s… _filthy_.”

 “You told me it wasn’t getting worse,” Dean says testily.

 “Well, I lied.” Castiel snaps. “What do you think happens when Heaven moves? To an angel still crawling on Earth?”

 “Well, I –“

 “Gentlemen,” the Doctor says loudly, to get everybody’s attention. “There is an alternate version of Dean and Sam hiding in the bush outside, from the year 2012.” There is a pause. The Doctor considers what he’s just said. “Wait, I didn’t mean to say that first.”

 “ _What_?” Dean growls. The Doctor honestly can’t find a better word for it.

 “Very smooth, Doctor.” Amy says. The Doctor waggles his fingers at her.

 “ _What_?” Dean repeats, more dangerously this time. The Doctor waves his hands about, for a lack of a better thing to do.

 “Okay, so we’re in a bit of a… pickle,” he says, and attempts to clarify the situation. “The Earth is being farmed by a race of black-goo oozing aliens, Dean and Sam’s timelines are messed up and their universe is rejecting them – this universe is full of crazy people-killing… people, and Castiel, the angel, is finding humans rather filthy. Oh, and the Ponds and I can’t find my spaceship so we’re stuck here as well. Did I leave anything out?” He looks expectantly at the dumbstruck faces of his audience. He likes it when his audience can’t follow his thoughts fast enough.

 “You left out the part,” Castiel interjects. “About Dean’s brother – this version – agreeing to be the devil’s vessel and tearing the whole world apart.” Dean flinches at that, and so does the Doctor. He tries to remain calm and bright.

 “Okay, challenge accepted,” he says. “Anyone else?”

-

 Dean hates this situation with a passion. He thinks he has enough problems as it is – now he has to deal with a whole bunch of other problems on top of his. He glares at the other Dean – the one who still has a brother.

 “Dean,” he says, drawing out the name sarcastically. “How ‘bout I call you – Dean 2.0?”

 “Shut it, Jackass.” Dean 2.0 says violently. “ _You_ should be 2.0.”

 “Boys,” the Doctor interjects patiently. “No fighting with your alternate selves.”

 Sam is looking at him. Dean sees this with a pain he can’t recognize. Sam is older, seems _taller_ somehow, and Dean wants to make a snide remark at this but doesn’t know how to. It’s not his brother. It’s Dean 2.0’s. _His_ brother, _his_ Sam, sold himself to the devil.

 Dean’s thoughts are cut short when 2.0 grabs a gun from his jeans and puts it on the table.

 “Is that – the Colt?” The damn gun he’s been looking for this past few years. 2.0 nods.

 “Yeah, and no – it doesn’t work on the devil. We tried.”

 The hope dies as quickly as it flared. Dean feels numb. Cas looks worried.

 “I assume you’ve averted _your_ apocalypse. How’d you do it?” Cas says, and it’s a good point. Dean looks at them expectantly.

 “Sam said yes,” 2.0 says in a flat voice. “Because he thought he could take control for a moment and jump in the cage.”

 “And that worked?” Cas says, at the same time Dean yells _and you let him?_

 2.0 looks like he wants to say _you’re the one to talk_ , but to his credit he doesn’t. Instead he says, “only barely,” and leaves it at that.

 “One problem at a time.” The Doctor person intones carefully. He looks ridiculous rubbing his palms together, and Dean leans back grumpily. His headache is starting again.

 “Which is what?” Amy asks, skeptical. The Doctor falters.

 “Well, I don’t know. Whichever you want, I suppose.” When nobody answers, he tries to lift the mood by saying, “don’t worry, we’ll solve them all,”

 “Whatever,” Dean grumbles and pushes off from the table. “I need some air.” He says and storms out of the room without waiting for a reply. He figures they won’t let him be, though, and someone will follow.

 “Hey,” Dean hears someone call, before he’s taken five steps, but it’s not who he’s expected. Dean turns around slowly.

 “Hey,” he greets, feeling like killing himself and weeping to death at the same time. Sam looks back at him with an equally troubled expression.

 “Long time no see.” Dean quips, feels ridiculous. Sam just sort of smiles slowly. For a while no one says anything, then they are both trying to speak at the same time.

 “Sam, I’m sorry – “ “Look, Dean,”

 They pause. Dean nods at Sam to go first, because that’s how it’s always been. Familiar. Alien. It’s not _his_ Sam.

 “Dean, I just wanted to tell you why he – I – did it.” Sam says. Dean gulps, waits for the damnation to come. It doesn’t, though, not really.

 “You heard Dean – um, the _other_ Dean – “ Always so considerate, Sam doesn’t say _my_ Dean, although Dean can see it’s at the tip of his tongue. “I probably thought the same thing. That I could… somehow take control. Enough to kill myself, or something.”

 “Then – “ Dean hates how his voice breaks. He tries again. “Then why haven’t you?”

 “Because,” Sam says softly. “Because I couldn’t do it without you, Dean.”

 “That wasn’t me,” Dean says, feeling detached. Sam shakes his head.

 “You’re both Dean.” With that he leaves, and Dean is left wondering how his brother leaves him shattered every time. _Every_ time.

-

 Castiel is regretting this. “It was a moment of weakness,” he tells the stranger. The Doctor, as he calls himself. He is familiar with how Timelords choose names for themselves. He gets a glimpse of the Doctor’s real name, and sympathizes.

 “What was?” The Doctor asks.

 “Asking you for help. I don’t need your help.” Castiel says, feels the past Dean’s eyes on him.

 “Yes, you do.” The girl, Amy, says quietly. She is looking straight at Castiel, the way Dean used to look at him. Back when things were simple and Castiel was an angel fighting for heaven.

 “Yeah, I do,” Castiel admits. “But you can’t anyway, so forget it.” He feels like laughing, so he does.

 “Are you high?” Rory frowns. Castiel finds that funny.

 “Generally? Yes.” He answers. Dean looks pained, like he’s hearing a really bad joke he knows really well. Castiel walks into a bar … and drinks it.

 “Hey, I just thought of a great joke,” Castiel says, is interrupted when Sam and Dean – _his_ Dean – strolls in. Sam looks sad, Dean looks broken.

 “What is it?” The Doctor looks interested, but Dean gives him a death glare, so Castiel keeps quiet. He decides to call the other Dean, Dean 3.0. Just for kicks.

 “I’d love to sit and keep talkin’,” Dean says to the room. “But I got a camp to run. So unless anyone’s got anything to add, we gotta – “ Dean considers what he can say. Frowns. “Actually, you and Sam gotta stay here. The others will freak.” Sam nods uncomfortably. Dean 3.0 looks like he wants to argue but Dean is already turning his head.

 “As for you – can you shoot?”

 “Ew, no,” the Doctor says, at the same time Amy and Rory answer _yes_. The Doctor looks at them like he’s been betrayed.

 “Fine. Help John in the medical tent, then,” Dean decides without even blinking. He turns to Castiel. Castiel puts on a goofy grin that Dean hates.

 “I’ll stay here with them,” he offers, gestures at Sam and Dean. “Can’t do anything else with a broken foot.”

 “Wait, you broke your foot?” Dean 3.0 speaks up. Castiel eyes him wearily.

 “Yes, I know. It’s hilarious.”

 “What day is it?” he asks. Dean frowns, but gives him the date.

 “August 1st, 2013.”

 “Exactly one year.” Dean 3.0 says to Sam. Sam frowns. “You mean – “ The brothers look at each other, and Castiel wishes his Dean and his Sam had that, too.

 “One year? What’re you talking about?” Dean says gruffly. When nobody answers, he throws his hands up in the air and does the fed-up face, exaggeratedly.

 “Fine. Whatever.” He points at the three strangers. “You three, come with me.”

 Dean leaves the cabin, with the confused-looking Timelord and his humans. He’s just a Timelord, not an angel, and Castiel curses himself for hoping. He settles in his chair and gives Sam and Dean a wide grin. Sam looks uncomfortable, Dean looks sad. Castiel finds that he doesn’t care.

 “So, Cas,” Dean 3.0 attempt to talk to him. Castiel thinks it’s kind of sad, thinks back to how he was back then. Back in –

 “When did you say you were from, again?”

 “What? Uh, 2012.” Dean answers a little bemusedly. Castiel tries to remember.

 “2012, yes, that was when the Crotoan virus really started to hit big cities. But of course,” he nods his head at the Winchester brothers. The finer version of them. “Your version would’ve happened differently.”

 “Yeah,” Dean gulps. “So you’re, you’ve been,”

 “Speaking has never been your strong suit, Dean,” Castiel says flatly. “Take it easy.”

 “What?” Dean scrunches up his face, and Sam snickers unexpectedly. Castiel is a little surprised, too. It’s been a while since Dean responded to his jabs. “Shut up, like you’re the one to talk.” Dean waggles his finger at Castiel. “When I first met you, you couldn’t speak straight at _all_. All mysterious riddles and threats…”

 “I was an angel, then,” Castiel muses. That shuts Dean up, and Sam’s laugh stops abruptly.

 “Yeah, about that… how far have you, um, Fallen?” Dean wants to know, which Castiel thinks is typical of him. Castiel doesn’t say that it’s humiliating to speak of, that it’s painful. He simply answers. Dean asks, he answers.

 “Not completely, yet. I recognized you were from a different time, didn’t I?” Castiel answers cheerfully. “In a few weeks, though, I think that’ll be gone, too.”

 “What?” Dean says, and Castiel doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. “You sure?”

 Castiel thinks about it. “Yes, Dean,” he answers, because Dean asked. “I’m sure.”

 Dean bolts out the door.

-

 “People, this is the Doctor.” Dean announces as the three of them step through the biggest tent, the medical tent. “And his… nurses. They’re here to help.” Amy finds it funny that what he says is kind of true. There are more injured than there are doctors and nurses, and the tent reeks of blood and antibiotics.

 “Doctor who?” One of them asks, and the Doctor brightens up to answer. Except Dean cuts him out.

 “Doctor from the UK. It doesn’t matter.” He says, and people go back to their jobs like Dean’s words were Bible and they suddenly find that it really doesn’t matter. The Doctor observes this with interest.

 “You _are_ a medical doctor, right?” Dean asks, a little more quietly. The Doctor nods like he’s offended. “Good,” Dean says, and leaves it at that.

 After he leaves, a shortish man with a nervous look approaches them.

 “Hi,” he says nervously. “I’m Chuck. I run records ‘round here.”

 “Okay,” the Doctor says and extends his hand. Chuck stares at it like he doesn’t know what it is. “I’m the Doctor.”

 “Yeah, I heard that. I’ll need your names, though, for, you know, record.”

 “Just the Doctor.” The Doctor insists, and Amy wonders if this is the day that someone will finally give him crap over that. Chuck looks like he might argue, narrows his eyes, but eventually just shrugs and writes _the Doctor_ on his board. Amy and Rory give their names, too. Chuck welcomes them with a nervous smile, when the tent flaps open and they find Dean standing there, looking bright and excited.

 “Dean?” Chuck says, a little fearfully. “Have you left something?”

 “What?” Dean frowns, and Amy can tell it’s their Dean. Not from the lack of the thigh-holster or the clothes, but from the look he gives Chuck. “Uh, yeah. No. I just need to, uh, talk with these three.” He gestures at them. Chuck shrugs and moves out of the way. Dean beckons them to come outside, and they follow him.

 “What’re you doing out?” Rory says, when they’ve moved out of anyone’s earshot. “It’s risky.”

 “Yeah, well. I needed to tell you something. I figured it out. It ain’t an alternate timeline.” Dean pours out in a breath.

 “What do you mean?” Rory asks. Dean breathes deeply to stabilize himself, and the Doctor asks again.

 “How do you know?”

 “’Cause he knows, Cas knows. Knew.” Dean pauses at the blank expression on their faces. “When I got sent in the future, Cas took a look at me and said that I wasn’t from that time. Except now – now he tells me he can’t do that anymore once he’s completely Fallen.”

 “Oh, oh, so – “ The Doctor jumps, suddenly, hunching up his shoulders in a way that he does when he’s excited.

 “So, yeah – it was my timeline. It _is_ my timeline.” Dean confirms.

 “What does that mean?” Rory asks, and Amy is glad he does. But Dean only quirks one eyebrow, answers mysteriously.

 “It means we got some explaining to do.”

 Amy hates when people do that.

-

 Dean tries hard to understand. It’s a lot to take in, and his headache is getting worse again. But by what they’re telling him, his headache won’t be a problem for much longer – in about a year, they say.

 “A year?”

 “A year and a day. Exactly. Another me – you – from the year 2009 will turn up at your doorstep.” Dean 2.0 explains patiently. Dean rubs his temples. Cas is strangely quiet, he notices.

 “What am I supposed to do with him – you – me?” This pronoun thing is getting ridiculous. Dean 2.0 shifts in his seat a little uncomfortably, shares a look with Sam. Damn if he doesn’t know what that look means. It means something fishy is up.

 “This isn’t gonna be pretty,” 2.0 warns. Dean just rolls his eyes.

 “Pretty is down in my worry list, chuckles,” Dean explains, “where the sun don’t shine.”

 “You’re gonna find the Colt.” 2.0 carries on, ignoring him. “And you’ll know where Lucifer is holed up. You’re gonna take me – 2009 me – there, to see my brother.”

 Dean is speechless for a moment. He sees the alien looking worriedly at him, and shakes off the paralysis.

 “Why? Or – how?”

 “Here’s where it gets, uh, funny.” Sam interjects. It hurts Dean to hear his voice, but he doesn’t show it.

 “You’ll have the Colt, because we’re giving it to you, now.” Sam says and puts the Colt on the table, pushes it towards him. Dean stares at it blankly.

 “And you’ll know where Lucifer is – ‘cause I’m telling you now. Here.” 2.0 points at a seemingly random building on a random street.

 “As for why,” 2.0 continues with a serious face. “Because it’s a shock treatment. I see Lucy wearin’ Sam wearin’ a white suit, and I go back. Zachariah sends me back. And I call Sam.”

 Dean looks up at that. 2.0 is looking squarely at his eyes, his own eyes large and sincere. Dean can’t recall the last time he saw that look. For that alone, he nods.

 “And the whole timeline – “ he can’t seem to find the voice.

 “Gets rewritten, yes.” The Doctor says, quietly. Dean nods again, feeling numb.

 “All this will never have happened.” It feels funny to think like that, but hey – it’s better than the inevitable demolition he’s facing. Anything, really, if it means Sammy doesn’t say _yes._

 “And us,” Cas says. Dean’s forgotten he was there. “Will this be a suicide mission?”

 2.0 gulps. Dean sees the answer before he even speaks, so he waves his hand to shush his past – future? – self.

 “Doesn’t matter. Does it, Cas?”

 Cas looks at him, grins slowly. “No, it doesn’t, Dean.” His voice is calm, though. Dean meets his eyes for a moment longer, then turns to the rest of them.

 “What about you? What will you do?”

 “Well, actually, I have a plan.” The Doctor says brightly. Amy looks at him suspiciously.

 “An actual plan?” She says, and the Doctor feigns hurt.

 “Yes, Pond, an actual plan. When we were talking with Chuck, I stole a look at his charts.” The Doctor sounds like he’s dazzled by his own brilliance. “Guess where the extra toilet papers came from this week?”

 “Uh, Mars?” Rory says. The Doctor frowns.

 “Why would you say that? That’s stupid.” He chides. Before Rory can argue, he answers his own question with a dramatic smile. Dean finds himself wanting to punch it off his face. For no reason. “ _Torchwood!_ ”

 “What? What’s Torchwood?” Amy says, confused. Dean knows what it is, but not what the excitement is about.

 “It’s another camp, not too far from here.” He explains. “We help each other out when we can.”

 “Aha!” The Doctor sticks up a finger, and grins like a maniac. “But it is, also, the name of a top secret organization founded in 1879 by Queen Victoria, completely dedicated to protecting the British Empire from extraterritorial threats.”

 “It is?” 2.0 sounds bemused. Dean agrees.

 “So what’s your plan, exactly?” Amy narrows her eyes. “Don’t tell me it’s, like, go there and hope for the best. Or something.”

 “Don’t be stupid, Pond.” The Doctor laughs, but this times it’s a little nervous. “We’ll go there… and hope for the best.” Amy just sighs. The Doctor turns to Dean and Cas, and his maniac grin wavers. He tries, though, to make it light, and Dean appreciates that. He hates chick-flick moments, after all. He’s Dean Winchester.

 “Good luck, Dean,” he says.

 “And good luck to you, too, Doc.” He turns to 2.0 and Sam next. But he can’t think of anything to say, so he just nods. They struggle for words too. Finally Dean 2.0 turns to Cas and says, “you were in the middle of an orgy, by the way,” and Cas sputters out a laughter. Dean glares at Cas. “What?” Cas shrugs. “I like past you.”

 They leave the cabin shortly after that. Dean tries to think about the future that was to become his past, the past he would never know, but finds he isn’t too broken about it. He’s tired. He has a headache, and Sam is, apparently, going to be wearing a white suit. Dean scoffs to himself. His giant brother will look like a yeti.

 “What’s funny?” Cas asks. Dean shakes his head.

 “Nothin’. How’s the foot?”

 “Oh, you know. Broken.” Cas says cheerfully. “But I’ll live. For another year, at least.”

 “Yeah,” Dean nods and leans back in his chair like Cas, puts his feet up in a mirroring position.

 “Dean?”

 “Yeah?”

 “You know I’ll follow you,” Cas says, and his voice is still light. “Right?”

 “Yeah.” Dean smiles to himself. “Thanks, Cas.” He doesn’t know what exactly he thanks him for, but Cas doesn’t ask, so he leaves it at that.

-

 “So, ’67 Impala,” Rory breathes.

 “No kidding,” Dean chuckles. “I’d totally hop you a ride, if it wasn’t in lockdown.”

 “What happened?” Rory asks sympathetically. They’re walking in an area where any second now, another one of those – _Croats ­–_ might charge at them, to an unknown camp for an uncertain plan, and they’re talking _cars_. Amy exchanges a look with Sam. The Doctor is trying hard to fit it, it’s kind of sad.

 “Leviathans stole our mugs… and my car.” Dean growls out.

 “Bummer,” Rory says sadly. “I bet it’s great, though.”

 “327 four barrel, 275 horses.” Dean says proudly.

 “TARDIS has a dematerialization circuit,” the Doctor raises his finger. “If anyone’s interested.”

 “What’s your baby, then?” Dean asks Rory, ignoring the Doctor.

 “Jag E-Type, but it’s still a pipe dream.” Rory says regretfully.

 “Ah, but does it have the chameleon circuit?” The Doctor interrupts. Rory and Dean just kind of look at him, without saying anything. The Doctor gets sheepish. He opens his mouth to elaborate, when Sam interrupts with a cough.

 “Guys, um, we’re here.”

 Another sign, much like the one in Camp Chitaqua, hangs askew from a similarly wired fence. Amy supposes that aesthetics would not really be on anyone’s mind.

 “So, what do we do? Just walk in?” Rory asks a little nervously. Amy remembers Risa, and her cocked gun. The Doctor shrugs.

 “We just… walk in.”

 They walk in. They walk for ten minutes in tension, and it starts to slip away. Nothing happens and there is no sound, not even the birds chirping, except for their own ragged breaths. This seems to put Sam and Dean on edge, whilst Amy, Rory and the Doctor inevitably relaxes. Until,

 “Hands in the air!” A sharp voice cries. The Doctor immediately holds up his hands, one of them holding the screwdriver. Amy does the same. Sam and Dean are slower, keeping weary eyes on the owner of the voice.

 But it’s just one man, and – Amy raises her eyebrows – a _nice_ looking man. Luck is with her today. Well, aside from the little… pickle.

 “Don’t shoot!” The Doctor yelps.

 “Who are you? Wait, is that…” The man’s eyes widen. He looks at the screwdriver, then at the Doctor, then repeats the whole ordeal. The gun slacks and Dean bats it out of his hand in a flash. The man curses, but is too busy staring at the Doctor.

 “Hello, Jack.” The Doctor has a serious face on. Amy glares at the man, too, gauging how dangerous he is. The man, _Jack_ , sobers up as well. He salutes the Doctor, like the Doctor is the king of England or something.

 “Doctor,” he nods. Pause, and then,

 “Jack!” “Doctor!” They are both yelling, both running into each other with their arms wide open. Amy exchanges a look with Rory.

 “Amy, Rory, this is Captain Jack Harkness,” the Doctor introduces. A bell rings in Amy’s head, in a dim corner by the library. “Oh, _you’re_ Captain Jack.” She says. “The Doctor wasn’t lying.”

 “Yes ma’am,” Jack grins, and it looks like a toothpaste advertisement or something. “He’s been talking about me, has he?”

 “Bits and pieces,” Rory is ready for a war. He holds out his hand. “Rory Williams, her husband.”

 Jack only winks at him, leaving Rory baffled. The Doctor then points to the Winchesters.

 “This is Sam and Dean.”

 Sam nods curtly, while Dean screws up his eyes. “We haven’t met, have we?” Dean asks.

 “I don’t know,” Jack is doing that grin again. “Have we?”

 “Jack, please.” The Doctor sighs, and Dean looks like he’s just eaten a Pineapple Fizz.

 “Just sayin’ hello,” Jack says easily, winks at Dean. Dean opens his mouth, closes it again like a fish. Then Jack turns to the Doctor.

 “So, Doctor. It’s been a while,” he grins. A different grin this time, making him look like a boy.

 “When was the last time…?” The Doctor narrows his eyes, but Jack just shakes his head.

 “Spoilers,” he laughs. “What brings you to the end of the world?”

 “Well, the end of the world,” the Doctor says sunnily. Jack nods, accepting this answer. But then the Doctor gets serious again. “Jack, sorry to inform you, but this timeline is going to collapse in a year.”

 “I knew it was something like that,” Jack mutters. “And I suppose you came for – this?” He pulls back his sleeve, dirty and torn in places, to reveal what looks like a digital watch. The Doctor nods solemnly.

 “What’s that?” Dean is curious. Jack flashes another grin at him, which Dean coughs away.

 “This,” Jack flips open the cover. “Is a Vortex manipulator.”

 “The what, now?” Dean blinks.

 “A time machine, Dean,” Sam says, excited.

 “Very good, Sam,” the Doctor is impressed. He holds the sonic screwdriver over the Vortex manipulator, listening hard to something or the other. For a while everyone holds their breaths.

 “It’s working again,” the Doctor finally announces, and Jack’s face brightens.

 “Ah, thank you! You’ve no idea how long…”

 “Where’s the rest of them?” Dean asks suddenly. “Your camp?”

 “We got ambushed,” Jack says after a slight pause. “Last week. No one made it.”

 “I’m sorry,” Amy says, and Jack nods.

 “Except you, of course.” Dean says. Jack looks amused at that.

 “No, I was pretty dead too.”

 “What, who brought you back?” Dean is confused. The Doctor watches them like it’s his favorite TV show.

 “Bad wolf,” Jack says, and leaves it at that. “Right, so where to? Please, just don’t say 1941, because I already have a few versions of me hanging around that time.” At a questioning look from everyone, he adds helpfully, “I might run into myself. Or – myselves.”

 “That’s it!” The Doctor yells suddenly, making every jump.

 “God, I hate it when you do that,” Rory complains, rubbing his ear. The Doctor pays him no attention.

 “That’s it, that’s it! Run into yourselves!”

 “What the hell are you talking about?” Dean gets impatient.

 “Think about it!” The Doctor’s eyes are big. “The last time you and you touched, we got flung into this timeline, why?”

 “Because it was a paradox,” Sam answers like a good student. Doctor snaps his fingers at him.

 “Exactly. The universe couldn’t cope. You were changing your own history.”

 “But that doesn’t – what about here? Now? It didn’t all go chickenpuss when I was talking to myself.” Dean objects. Doctor snaps his fingers again.

 “Yes, because it wasn’t a paradox. It was meant to be – you proved it, gave the gun thingy and everything. So, no paradox. It only works when there is a paradox in your own timeline, when the timeline is _already_ unstable.”

 “What works?” Jack asks, confused.

 “Crossing into the different timeline, of course.” The Doctor says it like it’s the obvious conclusion. “Ah,” Jack nods.

 “You’re taking this pretty well,” Amy comments, and Jack grins again.

 “Well, I was a Time Agent. A long time ago.”

 “Right, yes, so – “ The Doctor interrupts Sam’s interested _Time Agent?_ “We need to create a paradox to affect _this_ Dean’s timeline, making it unstable, then _our_ Dean has to touch past this Dean, and,”

 “Hope for the best?” Amy quips. The Doctor snaps his fingers at her, this time.

 “Exactly, Pond.”

-

 “So, you’re saying – you’re sayin’ what, that I have to make me – hate Sammy?” Dean is aghast. Sam wishes he would stop calling him _Sammy_ in front of everyone.

 “Dean, it makes sense,” Sam explains, when the Doctor obviously can’t convince Dean. “I mean, your – _this_ Dean’s driving motive is to save me, right? So if we take that away… hell, if you hated me, none of this _apocalypse_ would’ve happened.”

 “That’s what you think,” Dean says grumpily. Sam shrugs, throwing his hands into the air.

 “Well, whichever way, it’s a paradox.”

 “So, so, let’s say I agree for a moment,” Dean holds out his hand in that _hold on, let’s think about this_ gesture. Sam could roll his eyes and say _you’re so stubborn_ , but it would probably fly right by.

 “And, and that me hatin’ you creates a paradox. Okay. How?”

 A dozens of things cross Sam’s mind. He keeps quiet.

 “How about a major betrayal?” The Doctor suggests, in a dark voice. “A girl over your brother?”

 There is an awkward silence, in which Sam coughs embarrassedly and Dean just sighs.

 “Been there.” He doesn’t add that it was a demon, too. “Done that.”

 “How about… you start the apocalypse,” Jack suggests, brightly. Sam opens his mouth, but Dean cuts in with a loud complaint.

 “I don’t like this, Sam.”

 “Well, neither do I, but… it’s gotta be done.” Sam murmurs, secretly relieved that he doesn’t have to answer Jack’s suggestion.

 “Well, what can you possibly to do me,” Dean is half-smiling, but there is a dangerous glint in his eyes that Sam recognizes. _If I’d called, would you have picked up?_ “That can disappoint me? I always come back for you.”

 Sam thinks Dean should have said, _disappoint me any more than I am_ , but he’s got an idea.

 “Exactly, Dean,” he takes a breath. “You always come back. But what if… what if you never _came_ in the first place?”

 “What’re you talkin’ about?”

 “We have to go back where we started,” Sam decides. “October 31st, 2005.”

-

 It’s awfully quiet in the dark of the suburb. Sam watches the both familiar and entirely foreign outline of Jessica’s house, silently watching him. It seems to be weary of Sam’s presence, of the discordance. Sam asks the rest of them to hide out in the bush. The plan – the plan is to make Dean hate him. Sam gets nervous, but then too soon – the soft purr of the Impala pulls into the driveway. It’s cleaner, softer, fiercer than Sam remembers. Then Dean gets out, and Sam almost gasps. Dean, twenty six, worries not reaching anywhere higher than a missing father, is young and bouncy. His hair is more golden than it is now, there are no lines by his eyes, and he’s quietly whistling a _Metallica_ tune as he slams the door shut. This is his cue. Sam takes a deep breath, and moves a step closer, makes sure he’s still half in the dark. Dean – the younger Dean – snaps up instantly, and pulls out a gun from his jeans.

 “Dean?” Sam keeps his voice neutral.

 “Sam?” Dean’s gun wavers, he takes a step closer. Sam gulps, tries again. He has to be a better actor. It’s just that – Dean’s voice is so much lighter.

 “Dean, what’re you doing here?” Sam says. He takes a slight step back, and Dean notices. He spreads his arms and grins good-naturedly. His smiles come more easily.

 “Well, I _was_ looking for a beer.” He says, and Sam returns a stony silence to him. Eventually Dean just shrugs. “Okay, alright. We need to talk.”

 “The phone?” Sam says, almost automatically, memories jumping to life. Dean grins again. A little forcedly, Sam can see it now.

 “If I’d have called, would you have picked up?”

 Last time, Sam didn’t answer – out of guilt, out of confusion. Now he does.

 “No,” Sam says. Dean doesn’t say anything, for a short second, but Sam can see that the damage is being done. Dean tries to laugh it off.

 “Yeah, exactly. Listen, Sammy – “

 And, too easy, “Don’t call me Sammy, Dean.” Sam snaps. “I grew out of it.”

 “Okay, whoa, relax.” Dean holds out his hands. “Sam – “ He pauses. Crinkles up his face. “Dude, what’s with your hair? And your – is that my shirt?”

 “What?” This catches Sam off guard, and Sam plays up the crankiness to cover it. “No.” He fingers the shirt self-consciously. “Don’t be stupid. It’s mine.”

 “Okay, okay.” Dean opens his mouth again, but Sam’s quicker this time.

 “Look, Dean, whatever it is you gotta say, I don’t wanna hear it.” It sounds cruel even to Sam’s ears. He hates doing it, is grateful for the half-light of the streetlamp for covering his brother’s expression. “I got a law school interview in two days, and I gotta – “

 “So what were you doing in the driveway, middle of the night?” The younger Dean is as sharp as the older version, and Sam curses himself for not anticipating that question.

 “You know… getting some air. And stuff.”

 “Uh-huh. Sam, listen. Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.”

 “He’s probably – “ Sam starts, but Dean cuts him off. Sam can see that Dean is getting impatient too.

 “He’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

 There is an expectant silence. Sam remembers his face started to harden the last time, the last time and the other time it happened. It does this time, too, but for the wrong reason.

 “So?” Sam says, and Dean is – for a moment – lost for words.

 “So?” Dean finally croaks. Sam shrugs, going for the harshest non-expression he has. It’s pretty damn harsh.

 “Yeah, so? Not my problem.”

 “Not your – Sam, are you hearin’ yourself?” Dean is getting angry, Sam hates it, but he pushes on.

 “Yeah, Dean. I said I was out. And I meant it.”

 “But it’s – it’s _dad,_ Sam!”

 “Well, he’s not a very good one, is he?” Sam sends a silent apology to his father, if he’s listening in.

 “Can it, Sam. I mean it.” Dean’s expression gets dangerous. “ _Listen_ to yourself, dude – “

 “I am, Dean,” Sam does the flat voice. Fixes his brother with an equally lifeless look. “I have  a life, here, and I’m not having you – or dad – mess it up.”

 “Are you for real?” Dean blows his rage out through his nose. “I’m not asking you to _give it up_ , I’m just –“

 “Yeah, you are,” Sam grinds out the next sentence, like Osiris did. Like a death sentence. “You – you’re tryin’ to drag me back into that life because you’d rather, damn me with you than be alone.”

 There is a terrible, terrible silence, in which Dean just stares, Sam feels sick, and the second floor window flickers. The light – Sam gets a scare. If not now, then maybe never – so Sam gets desperate. He pulls out that card that he swore to himself to never, ever, use against his brother.

 “You know, Dean,” a bitter laugh, the one Sam’s good at, “my friends at Stanford, they don’t know about you. I said – “ Sam tries to sound callous. “That I don’t have a brother.”

 “I – “ Dean starts to speak, and his expression is just too – and Dean, _his_ Dean, decides that the damage is done. He leaps out from the bush. Before the younger Dean can turn, he slaps a hand on his neck and the world flashes, like it had before.

-

 The Doctor remembers saying something about _people with guns_ to Martha a long time ago. Ages ago. Mainly that they were his enemies, usually, and to this day he stands by that. Violence is just – distasteful, and he much prefers running. But standing here, between Sam and Dean and their guns, he’s starting to think that maybe, maybe guns are not all that evil. When it’s fighting a bigger evil, that is, and the Doctor thinks of River.

 “What’s this?” Castiel says, low and dangerous. Sam and Dean are looking about themselves wildly, and Sam and Dean are pointing their guns at Sam and Dean. Wait…

 “Hold your fire, Dean.” Castiel says grumpily to the gun-pointing Dean. The one from 2011. 2012 Dean eyes his other self testily. The Doctor imagines he’s rather getting sick of running into himselves by now. The Doctor imagines running into himself – maybe even two – and shudders. That would be a day to watch. Day of the Doctor –

 “Who’s that? Cas?” Gun-Dean barks out.

 “Jefferson Starships?” Gun-Sam says something entirely out of context. Rory frowns, wants to say something, but is shushed by Amy. Jack just stands there, looking between the two Deans with too much interest.

 “No, they’re – you. From the future.” Castiel admits. “But what happened just now? You were there, then you weren’t.”

 “Yeah, and then you were.” Bobby says, rubbing his head.

 “Oh, it’s a long, _long_ story.” Dean sighs. The Doctor thinks he looks weary, more than before. Sam is eyeing him like he’s terribly guilty. Which, the Doctor supposes, he would be. Even if it was an act.

 “Yeah? Well, we’ve got time.” Gun-Dean waves his gun at Dean, expression deadly.

 “No, you really don’t.” Dean says, but shuts up when Gun-Dean steps closer. Then to Sam, “Am I really that pigheaded?”

 Gun-Sam snorts, despite the situation. The Doctor feels like this is a good time to butt in.

 “Hello!” he says. Eyes turn, mostly doubtful. “I’m the Doctor.”

 “Doctor wh – “ Gun-Dean starts to say, but Dean shakes his head. “Don’t bother,” Dean says. “Seriously.”

 “We were just saying to Castiel – “ the Doctor smiles. “About his most recent… business plans.” Castiel looks pained. Doctor congratulates himself on being considerate and not saying ‘working with a demon behind your back’.

 “What? What’s he talking about?” Gun-Dean still hasn’t put down his gun. “Cas?”

 “Look, he’s working with Crowley behind your back,” Dean says, and Castiel glares at him murderously. While Gun-Dean yells _what,_ and Gun-Sam says _seriously?_ Bobby just throws his hands up into the air.

 “Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says.

 “That’s a sarcasm,” the Doctor points out, rather smartly he thinks, but Amy and Rory aren’t that impressed.

 “You have to stop it, Cas. If you don’t – “

 “Dean, I _can’t_.” Castiel cuts him with a glare, a desperate look.

 “What do you mean you _can’t_ ,” a Dean growls, and none of them are waving a gun anymore so that’s good, but it also means the Doctor gets confused.

 “How many times, Dean – “ Castiel, though, doesn’t seem to care which Dean it is. He snaps at them both. “I’m at _war_. Raphael is too strong for me. If I lose – it’s the apocalypse all over again.”

 “Wait, but,” Rory pipes in, and withers a little under Castiel’s stare. But he braves on, the proud centurion. “How’s freeing… _Leviathans_ going to help?”

 Castiel frowns. “Who said anything about Leviathans?”

 “That’s what happens, Cas,” Sam says. “When you crack open Purgatory. And they _won’t leave._ ”

 “Crack open Purgatory?” The other Sam gasps. Then the Doctor loses track with all the Sams and Deans, as they all start talking at the same time.

 “I need the souls!” Castiel finally shouts at the end, frustrated. “Don’t you understand, I’m doing it for _you_. It’s the only way –“

 “How about an alternate timeline?” A new voice, and the only Jack in the room. Doctor turns to him, as does everyone else.

 “What?” Castiel frowns.

“And who the hell are you supposed to be?” The other Dean narrows his eyes, and Jack grins crookedly. _Their_ Dean also narrows his eyes. “Captain Jack Harkness,” he says.

“What do you mean about the alternate timeline?” Castiel presses on impatiently. Jack shrugs, looks at the Doctor.

 “Well, we just came from one.”

 “Oh – oh!” The Doctor gets it now. He gets excited. Suddenly a hundred ideas start to flow in his mind, gets discarded, floats up again, dances, sings. “Oh, that’s brilliant!” He could kiss Jack. Well, figuratively.

 “It is, isn’t it?” Jack grins widely.

 “Doctor – “ Amy says, her eyes slanted. “What’s going on?”

 “Castiel,” Doctor turns to the angel. “Couldn’t you get your power from, say, a billion souls that never were?”

 “Doc – “ a Dean is getting frustrated. The Doctor dances with his brilliance again. Castiel is looking at him sideways, considering.

 “I suppose – but – how?”

 “As he said,” the Doctor points at Jacks’ proud grin. “We just came from one.”

 “So, like, Cas is gonna tap into the souls from the alternate timeline?” Sam catches on, and the Doctor yells, “Yowza!”

 “I wish you’d stop doing that,” Amy complains.

 “How do we do that?” Dean asks, testily. Jack steps forward, making both Deans flinch.

 “Easy,” he says. Looks at Sam and Dean, the 2011 version. “Where did you start?”

 “What?” Sam – the other Sam – says, and their Sam lights up. “The graveyard.”

 “It has to be exact,” the Doctor says. “So – Sam and Dean. Exactly one year from now, you’ll be in the Manhattan graveyard, and you’ll shoot a weeping angel.”

 “Shoot a – what?”

 “A weeping angel. With the Colt.” Dean catches on, too, and looks awestruck. “Wait, dude – this is weird. I remember.”

 “You remember what?” Sam frowns, then, “oh, wait –“

 “I knew I’d seen you before!” Dean says to Jack. The Doctor snaps his fingers, opening the door of the TARDIS. He feels excited, like he always does when things really start to pull together.

 “It means it’s working! Come on, friends, Geronimo!”

 “What’s with all the weird noises?” Bobby complains, as the Doctor runs to his TARDIS.

-

 “This is it?” Castiel asks. The Doctor nods and watches with his breath held, as do Sam and Dean, and the Doctor’s other friends. They’re watching the past Dean shoot a weeping angel in the head. It makes a satisfying crunch, and Castiel watches as the Doctor – the past version – squeaks _how did you do that?_

 As soon as their TARDIS materializes out, they run out to where the remains of the weeping angel stands, one arm still outstretched. Castiel watches, puts a hand on its arm. The power courses through him, the alternate timeline, all the lives that never got lived. He imagines that his heartbeat would’ve quickened, had he been a mortal. In a moment it’s over. He lowers his arm.

 “What – that’s it?” Dean asks.

 “Yes,” Castiel says simply. For a while they just stand and stare at the weeping angel.

 “Trust me, I’m not a big fan of drama,” Dean says. “But – isn’t this a big deal? I mean, you can finally kick Raphael’s ass, right?”

 “Yes, Dean. I can… kick Raphael’s ass.” Castiel says. Dean wiggles his eyebrows, but before he can say anything, Sam’s phone rings.

 “It’s Bobby,” he says.

 “Good.” Dean is still looking at Castiel. “Just, you know, mention casually that we got it. Y’know, the weapon to beat Raphael to the curb.”

 Sam snorts, turns around with _Hey, Bobby –_

 “Is that yours?” Rory gasps, suddenly, and Dean follows his gaze. Side of the road, by the entrance of the graveyard, stands Dean’s car. It looks especially shiny in the late autumn sun, and Dean grins proudly. “Yeah – wanna ride?”

 “Hell, yeah.” Rory says. Dean tells him he’s gonna get his baby started. Rory starts to follow, but turns curiously to the weeping angel again.

 “It was standing over some grave,” Rory says to Amy and the Doctor. “I wonder what it is?”

 Rory starts to turn, but Castiel is quicker. His thoughts barely formulate when his newfound power shoots through, destroys the grave before Rory can see it. It falls in ashes over the weeping angel, like feathers.

 “What the – “ Rory yelps, and Dean turns, quirks an eyebrow at Castiel, but Castiel turns to the Doctor.

 “Just returning the favor,” he tells the Timelord. The Doctor nods, but does not look like he fully understands. He is just a Timelord, though, and there are some things he does not know. That he doesn’t need to.

 “Dean,” he calls. “I’m gonna go smite Raphael, now.”

 Dean laughs at that. “You do that, Cas. Just don’t get killed or nothin’.”

 “That would be unfortunate,” Castiel agrees.

 “No,” Dean says with a serious face. “It’d just be a bitch to bring you back again.”


End file.
